Fast Car
by ShatteredDreamsProductions
Summary: Modern Merthur AU. Arthur drops out of school to nurse his alcoholic father while Merlin is a starving author who knows he has a story of legendary proportions to tell, a story of myth and magic, but he just can't find the words. Arthur wants to see the world, Merlin decides to go on a road trip to find his story. The two meet and fall in love, but history always repeats itself.
1. Chapter 1

**This story will contain mild Merthur but no smut. **

**The plot it based on the song "fast car" by Tracy Chapman. I don't own the song or the series, I am merely using them as a medium to convey my over active imagination that has been put to little use this summer.**

**Hope you enjoy! Leave comments and some constructive feed back to let me know how you think the story is going to far!**

Merlin sat at his laptop, staring at a blank documents page, racking his brain for anything he could write. A poem. A haiku. A short story. A sentence! He couldn't believe he had such a bad case of writers block. It appeared to him that the moment he'd decided to become an author, his supply of words and charming phrases seemed to desert him. He tried writing a story about a boy who'd lost his father; _They say write about what you know…_ he thought to himself, but that idea didn't get father than a page over the course of several months. In the end, he'd deleted his words and started staring at a blank page again. He tried writing about a man who had writers block and all the great adventures he would go on in order to find his muse. Again, Merlin worked on the idea for two months without getting farther than a chapter.

Merlin sighed and looked around for the mug of tea he'd made for himself before sitting down to work. He noticed the tea had gone cold and frowned; touching the cup, his eyes glowed gold, and the tea bubbled softly. "Honestly," he muttered to himself, "I'm a twenty four year old man who can do magic and see the future, how can I not come up with an interesting story?" Merlin had been able to do magic since he was a child. His mother, Hunith, had told him stories over and over again about how Merlin had set small fires by accident, or caused lamps to fall off tables when he'd throw tantrums. Merlin let his thoughts wander back to his childhood, hoping to find a memory that would spark some kind of inspiration. He'd had few friends due to his talents, which he didn't know to hide until he'd come to the end of his primary school days.

Merlin had thought his talents would make him popular. He'd often moved objects in class, or caused small whirl winds during physical education. Eventually, he realized this made the other children fear and envy him. The only friend that stood by him through the strange talents and the bullying was his friend Will. Will had always loved Merlin's gifts and often asked Merlin to perform small feats for him. Merlin had tried to write a story about his friend Will, but somehow, that seemed far too personal. He'd even tried writing a story all about a young wizard dealing with discovering he had magic; but J.K. Rowling had swooped in and made that subject nearly untouchable when Merlin had only been ten years old. Finally losing patience, Merlin stood, closed his lap top, grabbed his coat from the hanger next to the door and decided to pay a visit to his friend Gwain who worked at the coffee shop on the corner.

"So you can't write fiction, you can't write stories about friends who have a falling out, you can't write romance because I'm pretty sure you've never been kissed—"

"Thanks Gwain…"

"Hush. And you can't write about a broken family or a family who's suffered great loss….Well I don't know what to tell you, Merlin. Maybe writing just isn't the thing for you." Gwain chuckled while sipping his tea and taking a bite of a blue berry scone.

"But I feel like there's this great story in me just waiting to burst out! I just can't find the right words or the right characters!" Merlin slumped down and let his head drop to the table.

"Do you know if it's meant to be fiction or non-fiction? Maybe you're supposed to research someone or something and write some kind of history or biography." Gwain suggested.

"I think it's a story of legendary proportions. In a land of myth and magic…but I just can't get any of it out! I've tried writing about a woman who's a healer in a far off and forgotten land and time. I've tried writing about the last dragon; I even came up with a title for that one: Kalgira!"

"Isn't that your grandfather's name?" Gwain asked with a quirked brow.

"He used to tell me stories about dragons and wizards and that sort of thing when I was a kid." Merlin shrugged.

Gwain nodded. "But you can't get farther than a chapter or two with any of those ideas?"

"No!" Merlin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and pulled his beanie from his head. "I don't know what to do."

Gwain thought for a moment. "Well, Will had the same problem, didn't he? He knew he was meant to do something great with his life but he just couldn't figure out what."

"Yeah." Merlin mumbled into the table he'd returned his head to.

"But he found what he wanted to do when he left home. Maybe you need to go on a road trip!"

Merlin lifted his head slightly. "Road trip?"

"Yeah, you know, cross the entire UK, visit France, Italy, Germany…just don't stop until you run out of money or until you've come up with your story."

"What would I do for money?"

"Get a job in whatever town or city you find yourself in. Give yourself about two or three months in each place and settle in. See if that's the place for you or not." Gwain was getting excited now and was leaning on the table, his mind spinning with possibilities.

"That might actually work…" Merlin breathed.

"It might just be the exact thing you need! Merlin, you've been in Ealdor for your entire life. I'm pretty sure there are people on every block that can say hello to you and say they remember when you were in nappies!" Merlin blushed at Gwain's observation; he'd hoped his friend hadn't noticed. "It's time to find yourself in a place where no one knows you."

"But, my mother. I can't just leave her." Merlin felt his hope deflate slightly.

"I'll take care of your mum." Gwain smiled suggestively.

"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not working!" Merlin laughed and threw a crumpled napkin at his friend.

"No, seriously, don't worry about your mum; I'll be here if she ever needs help around the house or if some kind of emergency happens. I'm just a phone call away for her. I'll even make weekly visits to make sure she doesn't get lonely." Gwain's joking glint in his eye had gone out, "I'm serious, Merlin. I think this is something you need to do."

Merlin met his friend's eyes. He knew it too. He knew he needed to explore the world. It was just such a scary thought. "I think you're right." Merlin nodded. "But where do I even start?"

Arthur was in his room, doing some reading for his online philosophy class. He scanned through his notes on Augustine and Aquinas, debating which of his two points should be his final essay topic. _Compare and contrast their views on free will…or their views on fate and providence?_ He wondered to himself. Arthur was never more grateful for being a part time student than when he had his final essays and exams to study for. Of course, the reason he was a part time student could have been a better one—

A retching sound pierced the air. "Father!" Arthur jumped up from his desk and ran down the hall to his father's bathroom. His father was vomiting violently. Arthur ran a wash cloth under a cold tap and rung out the water. When his father was finished vomiting, Arthur helped him back to his room and pressed the wash cloth to his forehead. Uther had been an alcoholic for as long as Arthur could remember. Though Arthur didn't have any memories of his father being any other way, Uther insisted that it was due to Arthur's half-sister's, Morgana's, "peculiarities".

"Strange dreams, 'visions' and insane claims of clairvoyance…I should have had her locked away when I had the chance." Uther always muttered whenever Arthur asked him how Morgana's eccentricities could cause Uther to turn to drink. Morgana had left home the moment she turned 16. She had promised to come back for Arthur after she graduated from university, but when she had, Arthur had dropped out of school after one term to take care of their father.

"My mum is dead, yours is married with a new family, there's no one to care for him." Arthur explained when Morgana had come home.

"You always had a soft heart, Arthur. That may not always be a good thing." Morgana said sadly.

"As soon as he's better, I'll go back to school full time and get my degree. I promise." Arthur smiled.

"It's nice that you believe that, Arthur."

"I'll go back!"

"No, it's nice that you still believe he'll get better." Morgana shook her head, "I've seen it, Arthur. I've dreamt it. He won't ever be able to completely rehabilitate."

"Dreams are just dreams, Morgana. Just because you dream that he won't be able to last more than a few days without a drink doesn't make it true!"  
"My dreams always come true. You know that." Morgana met her brother's eyes. "I love you, Arthur, but you _are_ your father's son. You don't want to trust anything you can't explain and you want to believe that you can face the impossible and bend it to your will. I wish it were so. But I fear you are doomed to live out your life, waiting for a father that has no interest in recovering."

Arthur snapped his attention back to his father. Uther was shivering and had broken out in a light sweat. "Come on, Father. You know the first few days are always the worst." He murmured.

"Can't I just have a small glass of wine?" Uther breathed.

"No, Father. No alcohol. We need to get it out of your system. You know the rules." Arthur pressed the towel to his father's lips to wipe off the remaining vomit. "Here, drink some water to get that taste out of your mouth." Arthur handed Uther a water bottle and watched as he gulped down half its contents. When Uther handed the bottle back, Arthur placed it on the bed side table. "Do you want the TV on?" he asked.

Uther nodded and Arthur took the remote from the bed and turned on the TV on his father's dresser. BBC News was doing a story on the castle that supposedly had one belonged to an ancient king who had brave knights and a wizard to help him in times of great distress. "Look, Father, it's the millennium anniversary for Albion castle."

"Albion Castle resides just outside the suburban town, Camelot. Both are named in accordance with the belief that the fictional King Arthur and his knights of the round table once lived in the area." The news caster reported.

"What a load of crap." Uther muttered, "Magicians, ancient kings fighting against Druids. There's no such thing. The man was probably just a lunatic who went mad because his parents were too closely related."

"There wasn't actually a King Arthur, Father, that's why they said the 'fictional' king and his knights." Arthur laughed. "Besides, Mother liked the myths. That's why she named me Arthur." He smiled.

"Your mother was a beautiful fool. She liked fairytales and wanted to fill your head with them. She was too gentle for this world." Uther was slipping into sleep.

"Liking myths doesn't make Mother a fool, Father. It makes her a dreamer." Arthur countered and glanced down at his father, only to see he'd fallen into a deep sleep, "Sometimes I think Morgana is right, I think I've got too much of you in me. I wish Mother could have shared her stories with me. Maybe then you wouldn't have treated Morgana the way you did. Maybe she never would have left. Maybe we wouldn't be where we are now…"


	2. Resignation from this Fanfic

Due to my returning to school in a week and the fact that I'm spending a lot of time on music, reading and job hunting until then, I won't be able to continue this fanfiction. If anyone would like to continue it in my stead, I'd love to hear from you. If you're interested in knowing where I wanted the story to go, PM me and I'll send you my very confusing outline of the story. If you want to make it your own, all I ask is that you at least keep it based on the song "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman, I'd love to some day see a Merthur video based on that song. Thanks to everyone who subscribed and showed interest in this story. I'm so sorry I won't be able to continue it. I hope someone else does, and I hope you'll be good enough to send me the link to it so I'll have something interesting to read while I'm at school.

Thanks so much for your support, and I hope you find another fanfiction that will spark as much interest and excitement as this one did.


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